


Oil and Fantasy

by WindySuspirations



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen Smut, F/M, Fantasizing, Male Solo, Masturbation, POV Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: Cullen takes himself in hand while thinking about his Inquisitor after a particularly trying day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying to get back into creative writing after a long dry spell, and this smut is what I came up with. It's not great, but I suppose it's a start. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it, such as it is. Kudos and comments are love!

Cullen sighed as he stretched out naked on his bed. His day was done, he’d had his bath, and his doors were locked. Perhaps he should just go to sleep; his limbs were heavy as were his eyelids. He ran a hand over his face, his stubble rasping against his palm. It had been a long day, full of meetings, reports, and training recruits that seemed to get younger and more clueless every day. He rolled his shoulders, listening to them pop and crackle in the silence of his loft. Maker, he was exhausted.

He groaned as he recalled how the Inquisitor had looked this morning in the War Room. Maker’s breath, the way she had looked that dress. Was she aware what she was doing to him? The sleeves had fallen off her shoulders and that neckline, ah, that neckline had curved gently downward and — and he’d had to look away lest Leliana, Josephine, or Maker forbid, the Inquisitor herself catch him ogling her. He squeezed his eyes shut. And he bloody well did not make it a habit of ogling women, especially his superiors. Except that he had been. Ogling her, like some randy farm boy. The Inquisitor and the Maker’s chosen.

His cock twitched, and tension pooled in his lower body, making his legs heavy and uncomfortable. He raised his head and scowled down at himself. Void take him, there would be no rest for him tonight until he saw to…matters. He’d been planning on it anyway. A man needed to let off some steam now and again, after all. He just hadn’t planned on getting off to thoughts of _her_. But she was all he could think about, her creamy skin and her soft hair; the blue of her eyes which sparkled with intelligence and good humor. It seemed a sacrilege, base and low, but indeed, what was he if not base and low, common-born, unrefined and rough in his ways.

Maker, if she knew what he was thinking now, she would send him packing for sure, maybe even toss him into the newly rebuilt dungeon below the keep. He grimaced. He deserved that, and more, truth be told. But he was trying, damn it all, trying to be a better man.

Sighing, he rolled over to open the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a vial of oil. He took the cap off and poured a generous amount into his palm before quickly replacing the cap and setting it aside. Cullen closed his eyes and lay back on his bed, dragging his oiled palm over and around his rapidly hardening cock, moaning at the touch of his callused palms on his flesh. His skin grew more sensitive; the cotton of his sheets soft against his back and the crisp night air from the hole in his roof ghosting over him raised the hair on his arms and legs.

He dropped his other hand to caress his aching balls, picking up some of the oil spilling down from his cock and spread it around his sac. It was her hands in his mind. Her hands would be small and soft, barely able to wrap around his thickness. He hummed as he pictured it. Maker, she would slide those hands up and down just so, and oh, it would feel so good…

He arched his neck back against his pillow and groaned, all thoughts of how wrong he was for using the image of his Inquisitor to find release fading away. Now, there was only heat and the desire for friction.

She climbed his body, her breasts brushing his chest as she leaned down to kiss him. Jolts of pleasure shot from his groin, through his stomach and chest. He gripped himself tighter, his hand moving up and down faster. No, no, too fast, too fast… slow down.

He sighed as she smiled at him and dropped back down to slowly take him in her mouth. Maker’s breath, her lips were softer than her hands, her mouth so hot and wet. And she sucked him, taking him in as far as he could. The head of his cock was sliding against the back of her throat, and her hand was trailing over his taint, and her finger was circling his entrance.

Moaning, he rubbed his own finger across and around his puckering hole and slipped it inside just up to the first knuckle. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut as he shivered, his nerve endings tingling in his lower body. It was almost too much, this little addition, it had been so bloody long since he had last allowed himself this much, and longer still since he’d had a woman in his bed.

He stilled himself, breathing deeply and letting the pleasure settle, No, he didn’t want to come yet. The tension of the day was just starting to abate. She was kneeling before him, smiling with her finger in his ass and her lips red and wet from sucking him, her dark curls covering the pale mounds of her breasts, the tips of her pink nipples just peeking through.

His hand left his cock to travel up his taut abdomen to his chest. He rubbed it over his pectorals, imagining that it was her fingers sliding through his chest hair, upbraiding his own nipples and then sliding back down over his stomach, following the trail of hair to his engorged cock and slipping it back into her mouth. He arched his back as everywhere his hand had touched prickled with pleasure. He’d always loved being touched all over; his skin has always been sensitive, but now, the lyrium withdrawal made it even more so. He moved his hand up and down on his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head, imagining that it was her tongue. Oh, Maker, how sweet that would be, the Inquisitor’s lovely pink mouth over his cock and her perfect, slender finger inside his ass. He slid his finger in deeper, up to the second knuckle and curled the tip just so, finding that little bump of flesh that made him see stars.

He moaned loudly as waves of pleasure swamped him; he rode them like he used to ride the swells of the Waking Sea during long summer afternoons on his days off. His eyes were still closed, but she danced before them, hovering over him, stroking his cock and continuing to rub that spot. Cullen hissed, fingers of lightning climbing up his spine and exploding in his brain. His hips began involuntarily thrusting upward into his hand, and he slipped even more of his finger inside himself as he tightened his other hand around his cock, simulating her mouth. Maker, it felt good, so good.

He curled his thighs toward his chest and furiously stroked his cock and pressed on the increasing firmness inside him at the same time. His cock was leaking fluid in a constant stream; it coated his shaft and dripped down his sac, mingling with the oil. It was a mess, _he_ was a mess, but he didn’t care. The only thing he was aware of was the slip and slide of his hands on his flesh and the image of her, soft and lovely, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Evelyn, oh, Evelyn,” he cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his cock erupted in gobs of white semen, spraying jaw, throat, chest, and stomach. His vision went white, and for several long moments, he couldn’t remember where he was, _who_ he was until he relaxed back into his soft mattress and awareness slowly returned.

And as he lay there, sticky, sweaty, and oily, the cool air from above whispering over his skin like a lover’s touch, he knew he was in trouble. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, covering them with a forearm. Because, sweet Maker above, now that he’d imagined it, fantasized about what it would be like with her, he wanted her even more.


End file.
